All along you've been asking what's wrong with me/All along you've been asking what's wrong with me

So, it's been quite some time since I've posted here. Things, although not really different, are better. They weren't bad before, I just feel better about 'them.' Things are better with my friends, and although things are worse creatively for me (I am at a writing standstill, and haven't added to any of my own zine work in awhile, which is disconcerting to say the least), I think I'm starting to get the hang of this thing.

Both during the same week this month I was accepted to college (Evergreen State College, huzzah!) and turned 18 (huzzah?). That, needless to say, kicked my senioritis into full swing (I've had it in some form since the middle of Junior year). Fortunately, I've resigned myself, if I do any of my homework on a given night, to staying up all night to do it. This makes things really fun.
I'm gonna go do that now.

-AP

I actually had homework tonight

Which is pretty weird, because, and I don't know if anyone has told you this before, but senior year is basically really awesome. Yeah, it's not necessarily straight up all-around easier, but I have noticed fewer nights where I am up late due to homework. Whatever that even means.

Before I say what I am about to say, I should clarify that I am not a harpy for Obama. I am not one of the little teenage shrills babbling on generally about "change" and bandwagoning on the Bush-bashing, but I am legitimately worried that if John McCain is elected, it will very likely mark the beginning of my loss of any shred of hope for the future of America. Again, whatever that means. This is something I've heard from a lot of very moderate people, as well as almost all of my friends that could be considered liberals of the mainstream variety. It's quite stressful, I assure you. Having optimism, despite ample evidence to suggest my optimism is misplaced, in America's potential to be something much better. To not stop where we have long ago. To continue being progressive and a symbol of the future. Unfortunately, it doesn't seem like that is the place any of controlling parties wish to take America in, and I doubt that will ever change. I hope beyond hope that we'll just "snap out of it" and become more aware of the potential in America. Again, unfortunately, if Americans can't even put responsible people in control of them, how are they ever going to be able to control themselves, even for themselves? Selfishness does not equate to independence, and it's quite foolish of me to confuse the two. 

Oh well, stress is not going to change anything at this particular impass.

-AP

Bury me with it: OR, nobody knows you and nobody gives a damn

As I sit here, blaring Modest Mouse and coughing myself into oblivion, I ponder what the future will hold for me, and my friends.

I don't know if I will ever be not angry.

Did this come from my father and his father? Am I spinning my wheels? I can't help but worry that some day I'll just give up and say fuck you to everyone else in the world. That I'll stop worrying and resign myself to work and a family and merely that. That I'll someday find security and happiness in normalcy and not find it so goddammed boring.
I can tell which of my friends this will happen to. I worry about the other ones as I worry about myself. I worry that it is merely adolescent yearning that tells me that no, age will not simply dampen my spirit into nothingness.

Perhaps I am delusional for believing that I won't someday be just as clueless and stubborn and stupid as what seems to pass for maturity these days.

I worry I am delusional for believing that I am not alone. It's happened to me before. Why would it not happen again? That I am indeed wrong for hoping for more out of those around me, and perhaps stupid for expecting anything else? The worst that could happen is that this syndrome would expand to everything else- not just specific cases. That the whole world will be torn asunder before me and I'll be the only one left, standing in the middle, with only the paychecks from a lifetime of wasted work and a gun with a single bullet in it. By then I would know who is to blame. By then it would certainly be clear. But the question would inevitably form in my mind- should I kill those who are responsible or myself for giving in to them? There are no right answers.

Only time will tell. This is not meant to scare you. This is a writing exercise of the purest self-aggrandizement and is based solely on the illusion of self-importance.